The Spirit Heir (10 page)

RHEN

~ RAYFORT ~

When her voice cracked, Rhen was done for.

He had been determined not to forgive Jinji so quickly, to test out their new friendship, to see if he could ever understand why she had lied. So many grand ideas completely destroyed by the slight quiver of her lip.

"I was too late," she whispered, voice so full of self-loathing that Rhen reached out instinctually to comfort her, pulling her fragile body into his arms, hugging her as close to his chest as she could possibly go. Before his mind fully processed his actions, Jinji's head was buried against his neck, and Rhen found he quite liked the feel of holding her so tightly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, so delicate, so feminine. Rhen bit his lip to keep his thoughts from escaping, tugging her closer instead.

I'm done for.

Rhen sighed, closing his eyes as though to hide from the truth. Days ago, seeing Jinji for the first time, Rhen sensed that everything was different. He wasn't sure if he could trust her, if he would be able to talk to her the same way he talked to Jin—so openly and honestly. Rhen didn’t think he could say goodbye to the boy who had become so much like a brother to him.

How wrong he'd been.

Oh, everything had changed, that was undeniable. But in this moment, with his fingers exploring the curve of her back, that change seemed so much for the better—dangerously so. Tonight proved to Rhen that Jinji the woman was the same friend as Jin the boy—caring, loyal—someone he could tell anything to. But now she had a whole new side to her—a side that pinched his heart and stole his breath with her beauty. A side that had made him want to punch every nobleman in the dining hall that evening.

Sitting at the front of the room, meeting the glares pointed in their direction, Rhen understood the thoughts being directed at her—even if she didn't. He saw how the men eyed her brown skin with distaste. How the women grimaced at her short hair. A thousand eyes watched her, disapproving, making Rhen's skin crawl with fury. How dare they. It took all of his effort to keep his balled fists under the table—to keep a terse smile on his lips. Rhen had been all too eager to run away when Jinji offered. He had none of her confident grace, none of her willpower, and he had been half a second from drawing his sword. Even thinking about it now made his veins ignite with anger.

As though Jinji sensed his changing mood, she pulled away, jumping out of his arms and turning toward the view.

Blood pumping, Rhen leaned forward, focusing his rage on the distant horizon, doing his best to hide the sudden change in attitude. He was about to speak, about to apologize, when a line of flickering lights caught his attention.

His eyes narrowed.

Rhen knew exactly what those fires meant.

"We should go back inside," Jinji whispered beside him.

But Rhen's outrage had finally found an appropriate target, a place he could funnel his fury. Vision turning red, he could not look away.

"What is that?" Jinji asked.

Rhen gritted his teeth, feeling his nostrils flare, and muttered, "King Razzaq's army."

"So soon?" She gasped.

A similar thought was running through Rhen's mind. He and Whyllem had thought they would have weeks to prepare—there were not enough arrows, enough oil. The townspeople had barely been trained for an attack. And the food stores—Rhen had been hoping spring would pass before a siege might begin, enough time to refill stock depleted by the cool winter.

How were we so blind?

Rhen shook his head, desperation seeping into his lungs, sucking the breath from his chest. If the army already marched on Rayfort, then the Ourthuri and the traitors had been planning this for years. King Razzaq could not amass such a force in so little time, not on foreign soil. His soldiers had to have been hiding in Lothlian for weeks, months even.

Counting the lights on the horizon, Rhen's stomach began to fall. So many. The line of flames continued across the whole expanse of the peninsula and back, almost as far as the eye could see. Still half a day's march away, but even so, attack would be coming sooner than Rhen ever expected.

"I must find Whyllem." Rhen cursed, grabbing Jinji's hand to lead her back downstairs. The dull warmth transferring into his skin was soothing, comforting in a way he so needed in that moment.

Just as the two of them entered the stairs, a horn blasted through the sky—a deep bellow that rattled through buildings, filling the whole city with a scream. It could only mean one thing—the guards on the wall had seen the fires. Horns flared to life from every side, spreading from tower to tower, blaring across the city. Each tone made Rhen's heart constrict in anticipation. Chaos would soon overrun the streets. Fear made people crazy. And that was the last thing they needed right now.

When he and Jinji reached the bottom of the stairs, Rhen paused—utterly torn. Why did it always seem like helping his people meant abandoning this person who meant so much to him? Why did it always feel as though he were leaving her behind when, in truth, he wanted her by his side?

"Go," Jinji said, releasing his hand. Without her touch, his fingers felt cool, frozen as though his life force had been sucked away. "I'm all right."

But was he?

Rhen forced his hand to remain still by his side, fighting the urge to clasp her fingers once more. But as always, she understood what he needed more than he did. And right now, he needed to keep his city from destroying itself.

"Guard," he called, turning, hoping one was around. Behind him, a royal soldier dressed in a red leather overcoat nodded and stepped closer. No fear reflected in his eyes, filling Rhen with a sense of pride—perhaps they would be all right after all.

"Please bring Lady Jinji back to her rooms."

"Of course, my Lord." The guard nodded, offering his arm.

Jinji took it, turning to leave, but Rhen could not resist one more goodbye. Reaching out, he placed his palm on her shoulder. She turned, curiosity pinching her brows.

"I…" Rhen started, but he had no words prepared. Part of him just wanted to touch her one more time. A small smile danced across her lips, as though she could read his perplexed mind. Rhen sighed, settling on, "I'll come find you later."

Jinji covered his fingers with her own, squeezing once. "I'll be waiting."

And then she turned around, releasing him—silently telling him it was okay. Rhen listened, quickly flipping in the opposite direction, and ran down the halls toward Whyllem's room. White stone passed by in a flurry, tunneling his vision on his destination—his brother.

As he slammed open a heavy wooden door, Rhen realized his mistake. Pain squeezed his chest tight, a vise, making him grunt as he leaned against the wall for support.

This was Whyllem's old room.

The room of a prince.

Not the king regent's room.

In his haste, Rhen had forgotten for a split second that his father and eldest brother were gone. But now the reality rushed back, deaths striking his heart all over again, more excruciating than the wound in his stomach.

A hand gripped his bicep fiercely.

"It's okay, brother," Whyllem's voice broke through Rhen's hurt, "I came here too. I forgot too."

They looked at each other, complete understanding in their downcast eyes. In his brother's face, Rhen read the doubts filling his own mind. Could they do it without their father, without Tarin? Were the two of them enough to save their kingdom? Or were they each the screw-ups everyone believed them to be?

Pupils burning, Rhen blinked and straightened his stance, determined. "Did you hear the horns?"

Whyllem nodded, lips drawing tight. "Is it the enemy?"

"I believe so." Rhen sighed and walked to the window, taking a seat. They were too low in this room to see the fires ignited along the horizon. "I was on the tower when the horn blasted, I saw the lights in the dark. An army waits outside our city."

Under his breath, Whyllem cursed, pacing the room. "I thought we would have another month at least. The last we heard, the armies were still building, nowhere near prepared to march. And now they are at our walls? How did this happen so quickly?"

There was no need to respond. They both knew the truth—they had been blind and learned to see far too late.

"Where do our supplies stand? Our plans?"

"Little has changed since we last spoke," Whyllem grunted. The last time they spoke about the war had been right after Rhen awoke—a day that now seemed so long ago. "Arrow production began with renewed vigor this morning, as did oil production. But still, not at the level we might hope for. Ships are supposed to leave our harbor at daybreak to make for the Straits, but we only have a dozen or so available. Most are stationed at outlying ports, or serving as merchant vessels since we’ve been in peace for so long."

Rhen shook his head.
Must everything always go wrong?

He looked up, watching his brother's frantic movements. If the king regent was so anxious, he could only imagine what the streets resembled. Were the taverns full of sloppy men growling in frustration? Were the alleys being flooded with screaming children? Would fights break out over food? Would they rebel against their king just out of fear?

"Whyllem," he said forcefully, stilling his sibling. "The most important thing we can do right now is maintain control. Everyone is afraid, but we must keep them calm. We'll never survive unless the city stands united as one front."

"How? What should we do?" Whyllem shook his head. The pressure was too much. Rhen's brother had never been the one to make decisions—no, that was Tarin's job. Whyllem just offered council and advice—but with the mantle of leadership across his back, his wits had failed him.

Rhen stood, grabbing his brother by the shoulders. "Put soldiers in the streets, make sure no riots break out overnight. Ride out and assure the public that their king has everything under control. Throw coins onto the cobblestones. Fill their bellies with warm bread and wine. The gods, Whyllem, do whatever it takes."

Taking a deep breath, Whyllem nodded—attempting to embrace his new role as king regent with strength. Eyes no longer blank but filled with determination, he spoke with a voice far calmer than before, "I will, I swear it."

Rhen held his brother's gaze until he believed the conviction in his words. Now it was his turn to contribute. And there was one thing Rhen could do better than anyone else. Excitement mounting, he turned to leave, muscles itching to act. But Whyllem stopped him. "Where are you going?"

Rhen glanced over his shoulder, grinning widely. "I'm going to instill some fear in the hearts of our enemies."

Whyllem squinted, intrigued, but did not ask questions before releasing Rhen.
Good
, he thought as he raced from the room. Rhen didn’t have an answer—not yet. But he would because he was going to ride out beyond the wall and take a closer look at what was waiting for them.

Nothing too dangerous
, Rhen promised himself, remembering his conversation with Cal. There was too much at stake to put his life at risk, especially when his brother so clearly needed his support. But he was sure some mischief could be managed in a relatively harmless manner.

"Ember," he called out as he reached the stables. A reassuring screech filled his ears. Rhen raced down the stalls, laughing as his beautiful auburn horse poked her head out with complete impatience.

"I know, girl," he cooed, scratching the diamond patch of white hairs resting between her eyes. A sigh rumbled down her neck. Rhen leaned against her coat, content for a moment of peace.

Days before, just after waking up in his room, he had come to see her. And for the first time in their long history, his absence had been greeted with no attitude. Instead, Ember had leaned into his hug, stomping her front foot with excitement. Pure happiness had filled her movements. There was no annoyance at the long delay—three weeks without seeing each other was a lifetime for the two of them. Yet Rhen sensed that somehow she knew he had almost died. Impossible as it was, she had felt his illness like a sour taste in the air and had just been relieved to see him alive.

Now though, the feeling had worn off. After a few more scratches, Ember shook her head, reeling back and staring at him with one large, opal eye. If he didn’t know better, Rhen might have said her brow was raised.

"That's my girl." He grinned, excitement mounting at finally being able to do something other than mope around the castle. "We've both been cooped up for far too long. How about a ride?"

Ember jumped on her hind legs as a neigh rippled from her lips.

"Whoa, whoa," he called, shaking his head. "Come on."

Rhen opened the door to her stall as Ember trotted out, light on her feet, whipping her long tail through the air. Securing a saddle as quickly as he could, he jumped onto her back.

Ember needed no prompting. As soon as she felt Rhen's hands grip the reins, they were off, racing through the castle gate and into the night.

Streets passed by in a daze. The noble quarters were quiet. Families siding with their kingdom's traitors had abandoned their homes, and the remaining lords were at the castle, secure behind the city's third defensive wall.

However, as they passed through the second wall and into the area populated by the common folk, noise filtered into Rhen's ears. Music notes drifted into the air, balanced by shouts and shrieks—from pleasure or anger he was not sure. Though he hoped that those who were most afraid were hiding behind closed doors, waiting for reassurance from the crown—not getting drunk and rowdy.

Wary, Rhen took the side roads, steering clear of the taverns and the area he guessed Whyllem was attempting to secure. Dirt flew up in dust clouds around Ember as they made for the front gate, and within minutes, they had arrived.

"Open the gate," Rhen called to the guards standing watch. But no one moved. He tried again, more forcefully. "Your prince commands you open the gate."